


Adrenaline

by Windlion



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, Human!Jack, M/M, Pitch is a total creeper, Shadow bondage, dub-con, for the meme, weird porn, written at 3am and suffers the consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windlion/pseuds/Windlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack didn't worry about it at first.  Everyone's got their kinks, you know?<br/>It's not like his fantasies could really happen.<br/>Until it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the meme: http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2200.html?thread=2870936  
> Prompt:  
> Jack's favourite fantasy fodder for wanking is being restrained, but after a while the fantasies start getting more and more detailed with the bonds basically having a level of sentience and overpowering and fucking him. Which is fine and dandy, but then one night the shadows creep up from under his bed, and, oh, oops, it actually happens, wow, Jack is in WAY OVER HIS HEAD and scared as shit but also really getting off on being scared.
> 
> And then it keeps happening and oh no suddenly it's not just shadow tentacles but also the creepyhot dude attached to them.

 

Jack didn't worry about it at first. Everyone's got their kinks, you know?

It's not like it was exactly unheard of for a virgin to fantasize about someone else taking over to show them the ropes. Except. He kinda wanted them to show him the _ropes_.

Jack bit back a moan as he stroked a hand down his body, imagining how he'd squirm with his hands raised and pinned to the wall. How they'd tease him with lingering touches that never quite went where he wanted them fast enough. How he'd moan, beg, plead, and writhe until finally, finally, they took what they wanted, almost without regard for his pleasure- until Jack was a wrung out mess.

That was a good one. A common one.

Less common was that. . . he couldn't imagine someone who'd actually do the deed. Not even some fictional perfect placeholder. It wasn't like there was anyone who actually noticed Jackson Overland, anyways; brown hair, brown eyes, short: he might as well be invisible. So gradually, the fantasies were less about someone throwing him down and fucking him senseless, and more about it just. . . happening. That he'd wake up, disoriented, unable to see what bound him flat and vulnerable.

And out of nowhere, he'd feel- not hands, nothing as cliche as tentacles, just. . . touches. There'd be no one there to hear his moans, no one to beg to, just his own voice echoing in the dark. That added an element that made him shudder before he even wrapped a hand around his dick, free hand tangling in the sheets. That was good- his hands would be pinned, his legs unable to shift for leverage when it opened him up.

It'd take him, bring him to the brink of his capacity and push him over. He'd be powerless, at the mercy of this foreign and alien hand until it decided it was satiated. Maybe before he was finished, maybe after he'd already come till he was dry and just begging for it to stop.

Maybe he was messed up, but it was the fantasy of that edge of fear that got him off.

It wasn't like it could happen, so he wasn't too worried about it.

 

Until it did.

He thought he might be dreaming, that it was the prelude to another fantasy- but he'd never specifically thought of shadows before. Maybe it was the next logical step to being taken in darkness. He woke to the feeling of his arms being raised over his head, and blinked groggily as the phantom grip tightened on his wrists when he automatically tried to pull away. What-

A pressure rested lightly against his lips, like a finger shushing him, but there was no one there. Jack pulled harder against the grip on his wrists and got nowhere. His heart was racing before it even touched his legs, pulling his knees up and apart and somehow holding him there, spread and exposed with no grip to speak of. All he could see were bands of darkness where he could feel pressure, but not anything like texture or temperature. What the hell?!

The same nothing stroked his neck, ran sharp and feather light like nails over his chest, caught sharp and firm against his hip bones. He shuddered and gasped as it deliberately ignored his almost embarrassingly hard erection, running down the backs of his legs before almost pinching the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

That got a yelp and an instinctive buck out of him, before the most-definitely-not-hands pressed his hips into the bed and teased into his mouth at the same time. It wasn't like being kissed, because there was nothing there. No taste, no texture, just pressure stroking against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, holding his lips open.

Jack completely lost the ability to focus on the fact he'd just been effectively gagged when he registered the pressure sinking into him. Gradually forcing him wider and wider, it pushed into him until he writhed, certain he couldn't take it any deeper. He'd never felt that full before, not with his own hands or toys or even fantasizing- and . . . then it moved.

Jack shuddered, incoherent noises escaping his throat as he was fucked in slow motion. God, what was even happening?! His heart was pounding faster and faster. He'd never. . . he'd never thought it would be like this. There was no one to even plead to: just him alone with the shadows.

He swallowed, throat tight, and felt the faint grip of the shadows against his neck. Holy shit- that was one thing he definitely had no experience with and he had no way of even knowing how far they'd go. This was beyond the realm of imagination as it was.

He tried to roll his hips into the motion, silently begging for it to speed up, to angle just that bit more deeper. Of course, it didn't, just stringing him along impossibly slow at the borderline of pain. He couldn't control anything about this.

And that was when he shuddered and trembled through his first orgasm, knowing it was weird and wrong and so completely scared out of his mind but _holy shit_ -

The slow, impossible penetration stopped until he finished, then pressed just that much harder, that much deeper, and tilted the angle slightly so that his hips jumped. Jack moaned for it to leave him alone until he recovered, but it didn't- no, it kept teasing him, pressing against his prostate, finally brushing over-sensitized flesh until he was hard again far faster than he thought possible.

The second round was harder, faster, and left him seeing stars.

It was probably the third that meant he'd be feeling it for days.

Jack collapsed, sweaty, aching and boneless in the aftermath, and almost didn't register that whatever it was had left because he was too busy being terrified that there'd be a fourth. And that no matter how much he wanted to be turned on by that, he couldn't manage.

In the morning, the only proof he'd had that something had actually happened was how much of a wreck his sheets were and how sore his entire body was. It was impossible. It couldn't happen again.

 

It did.

Again.

And again.

And again, until he'd begun to forget how long this had been going on, but he just knew, that some nights, without warning, he'd be overwhelmed. And not just waking up in bed. Over his desk. Pinned against the door the second he'd closed it behind him. It was ever-changing and terrifying and far better than anything he'd ever jerked off to.

 

He shuddered in the grip of the shadows, spine arching just that bit more into the thrusts that pinned him to the wall. If it weren't for their filling his mouth, he'd probably be making enough noise to wake the dead by now.

That was also the only thing that kept him silent when he opened his eyes and realized he had an audience. Barely brushed by the spill of light through the blinds, there was the shape of a man. The sharp planes of his face just barely caught the light as he tilted his head forward, and flicked golden eyes over Jack's form impassively.

Jack's orgasm hit him like a sucker punch as the shadows _twisted_ inside him. He lost it just as the man turned away dismissively, and by the time he got his head together, both man and shadows were gone.

Jack panted, ignoring the way he almost whimpered as he slowly collapsed under his own weight to the floor. What the hell was that?!

For a moment, he thought. . . it made no sense, with the way the light hit his blinds, but it had looked like the man's shadow fell across the floor towards Jack. Holy shit. Holy shit, he had no idea what was really going on, and no control over any of this. . .

And the worst part was that he knew he liked it.

 

The thing was, after that, he _could_ envision someone pinning him to the floor. There was, apparently, someone who would hold him down and fuck him senseless, and he looked like a pale man wrapped in shadows. Jack wanted to taste his skin, feel if he was as cold as he looked, know what his cock felt like sinking into him, wrap his legs around that narrow waist. The shadows were still there, the same as before, but he craved that next step off the cliff of sanity into Something Else.

It wasn't the next time the shadows came, or even the one after that, but until he'd almost forgotten about the shadow man, and almost stopped hoping if not fantasizing, when he heard footsteps after the shadows had him exactly where they wanted him.

He stopped, deliberately just out of Jack's view, and Jack moaned against the pressure of the shadows. He finally took one step forward, into the light, and Jack's heart about stopped. Eyes of gold, ashen skin, the cruel smirk on his inhuman face. There was nothing about him that should be appealing. Except.

The man gave him a skeptical look, measuring his worth. "Well?"

His pulse pounding in his ears, Jack swallowed and found he could say one word.

"Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I took that prompt like ticking off a to-do list. It's sort of horribly sloppy but I got fantastic hilarious reviews that meant what the hell, I should own my porn. Thank you for totally, completely making my day, commenters- the twice-blessed cow and farewell to underthings killed me! XD (First porn I have ever posted on the internet, at that. Well, it can't be worse than having a songfic I wrote at 14 still floating out there.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kellyjoy/Traciematt on Tumblr, who requested what was next. I have finally delivered!

"Please what?"

Now that he'd heard the man's voice, dark and velvet, he didn't want him to stop talking. He could probably get off just listening to that voice, but he wasn't about to say that. That wasn't what he really wanted right now, if he could get more.

"Please touch me."

The man hummed low, noncommittal, and strode forward with an air of disregard. He shrugged his shoulders and let the black robe fall away from pale skin to take the last step completely bare, as casual and unselfconscious as a king before his slaves.

His entire demeanor, cold and aloof, was more attractive than he was. Taken in parts, there was nothing about him that should be sexy. The vulture's beak of a nose, the thin blade of his mouth, the jutting prow of his chin, the snake length of his neck, the spidery limbs, the bony prominent hips. As a whole. . . he looked lean. Like something gone feral on the edge of starvation and all the more vicious for it.

Jack swallowed dryly again as he realized that even as he was studying the man, he was being considered in turn. He'd been asleep in bed before the shadows came like usual. The shadows had stripped him, secured his wrists together behind his back, and brought him to his knees to best display him to their master. Pretty much gift-wrapped, and he knew it.

The man smirked knowingly down at him, tilting his head up with a brush of cool fingers beneath his chin. "Do you even know what you're asking for?"

Jack shivered despite himself, forcing himself to keep his head up and eyes on the man's face. He had odd eyes that gleamed first gold, then silver in the thin strips of light leaking through the blinds. What color they really were was anyone's guess. "Depends." Jack deliberately shrugged his bound arms. "How much of . . . that was you?"

The man snorted in contempt, sharp nails briefly digging in to Jack's chin before he released him. "Don't play the idiot as well as the innocent. How much of the desire for the dark is your own?"

What the hell kind of question was that? He had . . . unusual taste in fantasies, but at least he owned up to it. Jack rolled his eyes, "All of it. I'm not that innocent."

"I should know, shouldn't I?" the man taunted, deliberately baring pointed teeth that glistened in the dim light. Jack found himself wondering how sharp they were, if he'd taste his own blood if he wasn't careful kissing him. The prospect wasn't as alarming as it probably should have been.

"Then there you go," Jack answered, trying to sound like he wasn't already contemplating jumping the guy's bones. Or trembling like a nervous virgin.

After another considering glance, the man stooped to brush Jack's lips with his, in a chaste, almost impersonal kiss. Jack glared at him as he pulled away, "You can do better than _that_ _—_ "

And promptly was cut off by the much taller man casually yanking his head back by fisting long fingers in his shaggy hair. "Really?"

The second kiss had nothing chaste about it. Jack tried to give as good as he got, letting it turn deep and heated quickly. For as chill as the man's fingers were, his mouth was as warm as Jack's, with a clever tongue that tangled with his until he had to pull back for air. Those teeth, when he did manage to get a taste, were slick and pointy enough to give him pause before he was battled back. (Vampire, he thought, but somehow that didn't seem like enough of an explanation for whatever the man was. Monster, demon, incubus, whatever: it wasn't like it really mattered so long as he didn't leave.)

The man didn't let Jack recover long before pressing in for a third, releasing the hold on Jack's hair to trail his hand down Jack's spine between his bound arms. He was so damned tall, Jack still had to crane his neck back to manage to keep contact. He probably should have expected the ass-grab at the end but it made him jump anyways, flushing as the man laughed at him.

The man caught and held him by the wrists, tilting his head to scrape his jagged teeth over Jack's neck. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then followed it with a nip at the vulnerable juncture of collar bone to shoulder. That bit was familiar, the pain and pressure intended to leave a bruise, except he'd never gotten a hickey from someone with such focused _deliberation_ before. He could feel his pulse throbbing in the sore point left behind, hyper-sensitive to to the tongue flicked across it. The man chuckled low in his ear when he jumped again, half-smug and half-mocking, "So responsive. You act like no one's ever touched you before."

"Only you." It was the truth, blurted out before he could think about it, and Jack already wished he could take it back. The man pulled back enough to look him over archly, something smoldering in those golden eyes.

"You really are such a child," he murmured. It wasn't as taunting as it could have been but that was the last thing Jack wanted to be called in bed.

"Jack," he offered helpfully, "That's my name."

"I'll call you what I want, _Jack._ "

He slid one knee between Jack's legs on the bed, his hands on Jack's hips urging him closer. Jack didn't need the encouragement to grind up against his thigh. Whatever he was, the guy had fantastic legs that went on for miles of lithe muscle, seriously, damn. The man's hands rarely stopped in their quest to map out all the spots Jack had never realized were half as sensitive as they were now, the man's mouth at his throat. He lost himself in the slide of flesh on flesh; this was good, better, more real than he could have imagined.

The hand that abruptly yanked and held a very firm grip on his balls was a rude awakening. The needy whine he made was completely undignified and barely human; Jack recovered enough to protest, "What the hell?!"

The completely evil asshole just raised a brow at him, withdrawing his thigh and maintaining the hold that was literally keeping Jack from coming, "We're not done yet."

He was going to have the worst case of blue balls ever before this was done and that was a new and unwelcome development. Jack fought to keep still, whimpering, "Oh my god, you are _evil_."

A wicked, amused smirk grew across the asshole's face, and it looked disturbingly at home there. "You're just now realizing?"  
Jack tilted his head back and hissed, "Shut up." Non-sexy thoughts, non-sexy thoughts. He could do this without dying.

And the jerk was _not helping_ , purring in that made-for-sex voice, "I didn't realize you had a moral objection to that."

"Shut up shut up shut up. I don't find evil sexy. You are—hnnngh." Jack totally lost his train of thought as the bastard gave a thoughtful, calculated stroke of his cock with his free hand.

"Liar." He sounded completely conversational, as if he wasn't in the process of destroying Jack one breathe at a time. 

"Do that again," Jack demanded.

"Do you really think you're in any position to be giving me orders?" The hand on his cock trailed up to his throat, squeezing in a mockery of what he'd just done, his thumb pressing in under Jack's chin hard enough to force his head further back. Jack honestly couldn't tell if he was having trouble breathing because of the grip or because he was too turned on to function, trapped at the edge of orgasm.

And now that he mentioned it. . . all Jack could think about was what it'd be like to give _him_ orders, to have those long limbs stretched out under him, to touch and taste his fill.

Jack wanted to mouth the delicate wings of his collarbones, to pepper the arch of his neck in bruises that marked the man as his. He wanted to run his hands down lean flanks, catch his hands on sharp hips and dig his thumbs into the hollows there to see if he could actually catch hold of something real and tangible. He wanted to turn the tables, figure out what could destroy the man's icy composure and bring him down to Jack's level; roughen his velvet voice into a rasp that was all the more compelling for being broken.

Jack _wanted_ , in a way that destroyed all of his landmarks and understandings of what lust and longing was about.

As a teenaged boy with a fairly fertile imagination, he'd thought he'd had a good grip on that much. No, now he was totally at sea again, and from the way the man watched him with his lips curling back from too-sharp teeth, he damned well knew the sharks were circling.

After a long moment, the worst of the pressure let go, leaving Jack shaking and panting while the shadow man stood loose-limbed and contemplative before him. "Brat. I had better put you in your place."

Jack struggled to sound unaffected, like he didn't desperately want him to make good on that, "You can try."

"That might be easier than you think." And he casually raised Jack's arms behind him, the shadow bonds separating but never quite releasing. He trailed his hands down Jack's arms to his wrists with the cool touch and judging eye of an artist rearranging his subject, for one hell of an intimate portrait if Jack had to guess.

He didn't have long to wonder what else was in store; his wrists were separated and held high behind him before the man calmly rested his finger tips against Jack's chest and pushed. Jack tipped over backwards, his bent knees tilting up. It didn't take a genius to realize what this position was for. Jack felt like all the air had gone out of him and he'd never be able to breathe properly again.

The bed shifted as the man joined him, dignified despite being on his knees between Jack's spread legs. He ran his hands down Jack's thighs with a look of absolutely predatory appreciation.

Jack struggled to keep his voice even, "Do I get a name?"

"Why?"

"Because eventually even my neighbors are going to wonder if all I'm yelling is 'yes' and 'please' and swearing." Jack should probably not be talking back, but it was worth it, for the quirk of a smile there and gone again.

"Scream all you like. No one will hear you."

That was half-threat and half-promise, and, oh, shit, that should not be nearly as sexy as it was. His mouth went dry. "Oh. Uhm. Good to know."

That was the last time he'd be stringing together coherent words because holy shit, he could feel cool fingertips circling and pressing against his ass. Mercifully those talons seemed to have vanished but Jack wasn't even thinking about it because the first finger was in, cold and slick without anything as conventional as spit or lube. A second joined the first without fanfare, sinking deep and just _holding_ there. Jack opened his mouth to protest and nothing but garbled noise came out instead when the bastard crooked his fingers just so. And promptly did it again, slower, just to make sure Jack knew he was doing it on purpose.

He sure as hell hoped no one could hear him because he couldn't help the noises he made when the man started opening him up, deliberate and precise movements that were more about driving him slowly mad than any sort of satisfaction. Jack arched his back off the bed to try and push back, push deeper, but it was useless. He wasn't the one in control of this, never had been.

It was completely unfair how unprepared Jack felt for this. It should have been familiar, after all the _practice_ he'd gotten with the shadows, but no, nope, shadows had absolutely nothing on their master in the flesh. He'd make a joke about living color, except the guy was a pallid grey and Jack had no idea how much _living_ entered his equation and that's just his mind flitting rapidly and refusing to focus on the fact he's getting fingered and fucked for real. His heart raced just as much for the third finger as the second, the stretch so much more intimate when knuckles and bone were involved.

Finally, finally he stopped toying with Jack, fucking him with three fingers in steady, deep strokes that were So. Goddamned. Thorough. If only he'd just . . . a little faster, a little deeper. Jack writhed under the attention and naturally that was when he _slowed down_.

Three fingers deep, the thumb pressing hard behind his balls in a way that made Jack want to yelp and squirm and protest that no no no he did not sign up for that but he wasn't sure what he did sign up for, there's no waiver, sure as hell no safe word, and he's pretty fucking sure "stop" would just be wasting his breath at this point.

Then again, it terrified him that the bastard might just _actually stop_ and leave him hanging if that word slipped out.

"Please, please," he keened, hated the way his voice was fluttery with borderline panic. Having someone to beg to almost made it worse because now he had a good idea what it would be like to beg to someone who wouldn't listen.

A steady, firm pressure at his ass hinted at a fourth finger and that horrible velvet voice taunted, "Do you want this, Jack?"

Jack took an uneven gasping breath and went with his gut response, "I want _you_."

"Good answer."

One last sharp twist had him shaking, no wonder where the shadows had gotten that trick from, then he was empty, feeling weirdly cold and shuddering. Before he could get his breath back, the man's cock replaced his fingers, and Jack went from empty to oh holy shit- Fuck!

He panted, arched with his head tilted hard back against the bed and his hands still held up and above him in a way that turned his shoulders into a line of tension that was almost pain. He didn't even realize his eyes were squinted closed, so focused on the feeling of the cock sliding into him, until the man snapped, "Look at me."

Jack did, fluttering his eyes open in time to watch the man press flush against him. He held Jack's knees apart at his sides, and met Jack's stare with those strangely intense gold-silver eyes. "Be careful what you ask for, Jack."

For his part, what Jack really fucking wanted was . . . "Move, damnit."

And the bastard laughed, low and wicked, before sliding out and back in with a sharp thrust that had him cursing. Jack barely realized when the man released his legs, trading his grip for one hand on Jack's hip and the other supporting his weight so he could lean close.

"You were so desperate for this, that you went and bedded a monster."

Even more than the steady rhythm of being taken, it's the flash of gold from his eyes, the real threat in his voice, the prick of talons that wracked Jack with involuntary shudders of fear and pleasure. He'd known, he'd known the whole time. There was no way the shadows' master was human.

The man, monster, whatever he was, laughed and purred in Jack's ear, snapping his hips up to thrust even harder, "And no mistake, you want a monster. Exactly like that."

Jack choked off an embarrassing noise, not sure if he wanted to moan or scream or fucking hell- With his hands useless behind him, his weight resting on his shoulders, he couldn't even get any leverage to move; closer or away, he had no idea which. He needed. . . something to tip the balance before he exploded. Instinct made him try to squeeze his legs tighter around the man's waist, to somehow ride it out better.

Out of what might have been mercy or another effort to reduce Jack to begging, one of those long-fingered hands wrapped around his dick and stroked, hard and fast to match the pace. Jack swore and bucked sharply into it as best he could, finding all new motivation to writhe under him. Without warning, the man sank those too-sharp teeth into the hollow his neck and something let go. Pain, bright and sharp as the sudden surge of terror chased him over the edge. He could die here, now—

And it would be one hell of a way to go. 

He damn near whited out; Jack only realized the man had climaxed with him when he dimly registered everything had stopped. He was still strung up by his wrists, still damn-near impaled, still gasping and slick with sweat and come.

The complete and utter bastard rolled his hips, making Jack hiss breathless swears. His voice sounded rough but completely smug in his ear, "Had enough?"

Jack groaned at him and desperately hoped that was an answer because no, no, hell no, there was no way he could survive another round after that. Yeah, he'd gone . . . multiple times with the shadows, before, but this was a whole different story. He had to know Jack was at his limit, over-sensitive and strung out.

The man gave him an equally non-verbal "Hmm" and finally pulled away, disentangling himself from Jack's legs. Despite the sheen of sweat, he looked disgustingly unaffected, regaining his composure and rising to steady feet.

He stood by the end of the bed and raised his voice in a mocking lilt, "Did you get what you wanted?"

"Did you?" Jack shot back.

The pale man watched him with an inscrutable expression. Jack felt like little more than a puddle of boneless limbs; he could barely think, much less keep up with the razor-edged gears turning in that brain. At last, without the man appearing to so much as twitch, the shadows released Jack. He slumped back into his bed on shaky elbows, barely keeping his head up to watch his . . . guest.

The arrogant bastard turned away, casually extending his arms at his sides to draw a robe of shadows from the darkness over his shoulders. He tugged the collar closed and settled the sleeves with a single, sharp movement, no evidence of their indiscretions left behind. Perks of being a . . . whatever he was, Jack guessed.

He glanced back once to meet Jack's eyes.

"Pitch Black."

He didn't have to explain what he meant.

 


End file.
